


Difficult People

by Sweaterkid



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Anal Sex, Jealousy, Love Triangle, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, This fanfic was more of a bet but I am into it now, Wild West, gay shit, guys being dudes, im tryna make this good i swear, time period related antics, wild west homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweaterkid/pseuds/Sweaterkid
Summary: As the gang gets settled at Clemens Point, Arthur and John go into a fake love triangle Arthur created to make John respect and appreciate his family more, only to realize the two have more passion for each other than they thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jordan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jordan/gifts).



> Sorry if it seems a little rushed. I wanted to get the first chapter out so I could work on other parts of it ASAP. Constructive criticism is always accepted and appreciated.

The sun’s reflection rippled orange lines off the lake nearby Van De Linde Gang’s shabby settlement outside of Rhodes. 

Arthur had caught himself sitting on a rock on the water’s edge sketching away in his journal the start of what looked like the dock in front of him. The evening’s beautiful glow had inspired his artistic abilities to get to work. He didn’t really understand why, he just enjoyed the small moment of relaxation. It was a rarity for the life he lived, but he was okay with that for the time being. 

He could hear the gang’s laughter bellowing out from the camp only a short few steps away. Everyone being in high spirits put Arthur at ease. He knew they were settling nicely in this new destination, even though the stress of running out of Valentine in such a haste still had everyone shooken up somewhat. But still, the view was a much needed upgrade. The morale of each and every person in the group was an important part of keeping the peace. Dutch had preached that many times before, and Arthur believed it to be true. 

Arthur heard shoes crunching the pebbles beneath their steps coming from the direction beside his left shoulder. He slowly closed his journal shut and stared off intuitively pretending not to notice.

A woman’s figure appeared from the corner of his eyes. He swung his head over and smiled warmly at her. 

It was Abigail, her arms crossed around her chest looking at a boat traveling across the lake that disturbed the water’s tranquility. Her face looked gentle but tired and her posture told an unspoken sense of defeat. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” Arthur broke the short silence between the two.

 

“The usual, Arthur.”

 

“So John again?” 

 

Abigail got quiet with a troubled thought, then continued to reply.

 

“You know how he is. Doesn’t take anything I say with a grain of salt. Jack and the man barely get any time together. I know he is a good man, just not a very good father.”

 

“Calling him ‘a good man’ is pushing it.” Arthur chuckled to himself, but as he looked up at Abigail’s crumpled expression the sarcasm faded.

He hated seeing her in such pain over a man who doesn’t deserve the kindness, nevertheless a family. He never understood why she married or even liked the bastard in the first place, but love works in strange ways like that. 

 

“He will come around eventually. At least we can hope..” Arthur trailed off. He wasn’t the best at words, especially when it came to consoling others.

 

“Well, I don’t have forever. Neither does his son.”

 

His stare changed from the lake to Abigail. Every little wrinkle of sadness deepening into her face made him want to wipe it all away. He had thought many times that he should have tried to marry her and save her the heartache. He wasn’t the best, but anyone would be better than John Marston.

Abigail looked down at him and smiled an awkward smirk, laughing.

 

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She said, a little more of her usual umph being put into her voice.

 

“I just wanted to see you smile.” Arthur groaned as he got up from the rock and stood beside her, expelling his odd charm.

 

She looked down at her feet.

 

“I’ll try to talk to him if you want. Not that he listens to me neither, but I can try anyway.” Arthur patted her back softly as he turned to walk back to his tent.

 

She stood there for a moment as he started his way, and then spoke out to him.

 

“Thank you, Arthur. For everything.”

 

He put his hand into the air and waved.

 

“No problem.” He replied a typical reply to a genuine comment, then examined the camp and it’s constituents. 

Pearson, Shaun, and Karen were all huddled around a table gabbing away about God knows what. Their whistles were wet with whiskey and their slurs were apparent in each word they spoke. 

Charles and Hosea were hidden away in their own tents tinkering away in personal business. Lenny and Micah were playing dominoes, but Lenny had his head propped up with his hand clearly annoyed with Micah’s antics. Dutch was surveying everyone’s conversations and the rest of the camp were doing similar actions. Drinking, singing, talking. It was a normal night for the crew. 

Except for one.

Arthur looked toward a tree planted on the outskirts of the camp. John was eyeing him, furrowing his brows with a bottle of rum clenched his hands and his back leaning on the tree’s trunk. His intense, scar ridden face would have scared most, but he knew John too well. 

 

“What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?” Arthur called out to the sulking man teasingly, rubbing his face as he approached him.

 

John just looked even more angered by his response like it was obvious and Arthur was bluntly unintelligent.

 

“What are you doing talking to my woman like  _ that?”  _ John’s breath smelled strongly of hard liquor and cigars which made Arthur crinkle his nose.

 

“Talkin’ to her like what, Marston?”

 

John shook his head and turned his gaze to the ground, giving out a frustrated laugh followed by a forced, malnourished smile. 

Arthur didn’t feel intimidated one bit by his tone. John couldn’t have even known what they were talking about. In his intoxicated state every assumption he could make were just that, assumptions.

 

“She is my woman, Arthur. Don’t you think you can just go along prancin’ in your newly bought jeans and shiny cowboy boots and then sweep her off ‘er feet. She isn’t like that. She got me and that is alllll she needs. Devil may tell I wanna shoot the bitch sometimes but, she is still my wife.”

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow and then felt sour for the one thousandth time at his friend. 

 

“You really think that’s what we would be talkin’ about?” Arthur replied, his voice changing from playful ridiculer to agitated accusee. 

“We weren’t talkin’ about money, so you can get off your high horse about that. Maybe if you actually trusted her like you should you could just ask instead of prosecutin’ me with your damn nonsense, seeing as though she is your wife and all.”

 

“I saw the way you were lookin’ at her, Arthur!” John yelled, almost loud enough to draw the attention of other camp-goers. 

 

Arthur wanted to defuse the conversation and be on his way before John made a complete fool of himself in front of everyone else. He told Abigail he would talk to John, but he wanted it to be in a more pleasant situation without alcohol, drunken anger, and one-sided accusations.

 

“I never thought of you to be the jealous type.” Arthur laughed in his face. That seemed to be best response Arthur could muster. He felt bad for John at this point. 

 

“I ain’t jealous, Arthur! I just don’t like men putting their nose where it doesn’t belong. Our issues are our own. You don’t need to be a part of any of it! For your own sake and mine. My best friend and my wife do not need to be in cahoots with each other.”

 

Arthur got closer to the thug in front of him, letting his smile grow smugly.

 

“Best friends, huh?” 

 

John scratched the back of his head letting his greasy locks of dark hair fill the cracks between his rugged fingers.

His cheeks were hot with newly brought embarrassment.

Arthur’s presence was now making John uncomfortable and Arthur was using it to his advantage.

He slipped his hand behind Marston’s back, making him stiffen up as the tall cowboy’s chest hit into his own. He felt Arthur’s hand snake it’s way near the one behind him, rubbing on his knuckles as he brushed by.

 

“Arthur what are y-” John stuttered with confusion as his cheeks got even redder than they already were. 

He realized Arthur had yanked the rum out of his hand and was taking a swig from the bottle once he was standing in front him once again a few steps away.

John’s face resembled a cherry tomato. His mouth was glued shut to keep himself from making Arthur act in any stranger way.

 

“You don’t need this.” Arthur said with confidence, turning his back toward John as he took strides back to the main area of camp. 

 

“Goodnight, Marston.”

 

“Yeah.” John forced himself to mutter before walking in the opposite direction. 

 

Arthur plopped his body down on his cot and watched John walk into the forest’s overgrown bushes.

 

“Takin’ a breather I guess. Good.” Arthur whispered to himself about his ache of a friend. He was impressed with how much the human cheeks could become bright like a forest fire under the right circumstances.

Arthur opened up his journal and started to scribble sloppy cursive. The night had finally hit Lemen’s Point and cast darkness that was only disrupted by the light of the moon. He felt himself getting drowsy earlier than usual, but wanted to write down the events that unfolded before closing his eyes to rest until morning.

 

_ Marston was at it again with me. _

_ Poor Abigail can’t do anything without him criticizing her actions. I had to try and keep him calm when he went to go accuse me of flirting with her, for her sake of course. I told Abigail I would try and talk to him, but drunk Marston isn’t the person I wanted to talk to. John really likes to push my buttons and I can’t forgive him for abandoning us, his FAMILY, for that year, but he isn’t my least favorite person. He isn’t Micah, anyway.  _

_ John called me his best friend though, so I can’t really be too mad right now. I just want to beat The Devil out of him and make him realize how good he has it. Such an attractive man shouldn’t be wasting his time being such a fool.  _

 

Arthur reread the last sentence he wrote over. Attractive was a weird adjective for him to use, but he rarely made revisions to his journal. It was for him after all, no one else.

He put his journal on the edge of a crate nearby his cot and saw two shadows sitting where he was earlier while sketching. 

John had his arm around Abigail, leaning his head on her shoulder. The two were talking about something and he heard Abigail’s laugh echo off the water. 

Arthur felt off looking at the couple, but he felt happy for them. He wasn’t sure if it were a forced sense of happiness, but it was there.

Arthur’s mind floated away with the night’s wind, thinking about how making John jealous increased his affection for Abigail.

He stewed this thought for a bit. If that worked, doing it more must increase the outcome, right?

He propped his head on a rolled mat and closed his sleepy eyes shut. He had plans for the next few days, whether he would enact on them was a different story. He hated intruding on other’s business, but he cared for the two and Jack very much. Boost Morale. Morale. Morale. 

He went to sleep with pictures of John eating at his brain, and had an odd dream of John as a woman that consumed most of his night. She/he was beautiful, even with their scars and stupidity. It wasn’t a horrible dream in Arthur’s eyes, just a very odd one. 

Charles had told him that some Native American tribes thought dreams had great significance, and Arthur woke up questioning himself because of that. 

  
  
  



	2. The Necklace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little tribute to Sean and escalating emotions.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Thank you Jordan for proof-reading. Sorry if anyone caught those, I have an issue where I can’t notice typos without my brain correcting it whilst I’m reading and not actually noticing it on screen. They weren’t major, just silly.

“You wanna do somethin’ fun, Morgan?” Sean called out to Arthur with huge amounts of excitement in his voice. 

“What is it, Sean?” Arthur replied. He was brushing the knots out of Helena’s long mane, a beautiful white Arabian mare he had acquired through a rough trip into the snowy mountains of the Grizzlies.

Sean strutted up to the two and cockily rested his elbow on the back of her rump, which made Arthur eye him with little patience. 

 

“I found the perfect sight for a little house call if you are in the mood for some adventure.” Sean was beaming with pride.

 

“We ain’t killing anyone, are we?” Arthur slipped the brush into his satchel.  He was getting tired of doing “harmless” tasks with the gang, only to end up murdering a few innocent men in the process.

 

“If it comes down to it I suppose.” 

 

Arthur let out a heavy sigh but was curious to see what made Sean so adamant to go. He had made plans in his head to drive into Rhodes for a personal supply run. It wasn’t the most important task, though, and Arthur didn’t mind humoring Sean a little.

 

“Alright then. Tell me more about it or I ain’t going.” 

 

“I spotted a drunkard house on the outskirts of town a little ways up the river. The place was filled with total suckers, but they seem liked the type who done way worse than us. The buildin’ itself looked like shite, but I noticed them hoistin’ boxes of whatever you could imagine into a small shed on the property. I thought maybe it could be valuables.”

 

“Maybe? How do we know it ain’t nothin’ more than a bunch of pig shit and dirty cloth?” Arthur didn’t trust Sean’s intuition. His many mistakes that trickled throughout the gang’s missions always made him skeptical of what Sean could possibly have in-store for him. He didn’t want to waste his time if there were no rewards to be gained.

 

“Have a little faith, Arthur.” 

Arthur nearly walked away then and there. A classic line from a ridiculous Irish fool.

 

Sean noticed Arthur’s eye twitching and tried to save the offer.

 

“Please, Arthur. I can’t do it without ya.”

 

Arthur saw Sean’s face droop with disappointment. Sean was doing the best impression of a lost dog he could, pouting his lip gently and pushing his brows up his forehead. 

Both of the men stood staring right at each other, Sean keeping his look, waiting on him to make a response.

 

Arthur put his hands up in the air and then adjusted the saddle on his horse.

“....Fine.” He groaned.

Sean instantly gained the silly glow he usually carried.

 

“All right, Mr.Morgan! I promise I won’t disappoint ya.”  

Sean goofily ran over to his horse across the field, almost tripping over his own two feet. 

Arthur rolled his eyes and climbed on top of Helena’s sturdy frame. He made sure his best repeater was slung over his shoulder and started to guide her onto the path nearby. 

“Come on, girl.” Arthur barely stuck around for Sean to catch up with him, but kept a steady enough pace for the orange haired man to do so. 

 

“It’s just up the way.” Sean said as they crossed onto the main road. 

The horses galloped softly and the two started chatting, more or less against Arthur’s will.

 

“So, I heard ya getting into it with Marston last night.”

Arthur was not surprised at Sean beginning the conversation with camp gossip.

 

“He started it. It ain’t any of your business anyhow.”

 

“He does have a point though, Arthur. It ain’t your problem to fix.”

 

“So I should just treat Abigail like an object and let her boil in her own emotions about it while John gabs to y’all? That don’t seem very fair.”

 

“She has the other girls to talk to. They are in a little cult, they are. Besides, you aren’t usually the one to nose into other people’s baggage.”    
  


“Well, I don’t like seein’ anyone all down on themselves like that. Both her and John. Wouldn’t really care if it were Micah though.” 

 

“Take a left up here.” Sean interrupted the conversation he had made. They galloped into a long, winding path filled with trees.

 

Sean instantly started up again, juicing Arthur like an orange in the face of confrontation. 

 

“You know, Arthur. If it were me, he would have socked me blank in the nose and left a bloody knob on my face. No talk, no warning. Or even anyone else for that matter.”

 

Arthur thought back to the dream he had for a split moment, but then shook it off.

 

“Well, I guess we are close. Were close. Maybe not as much now.”   
  


Arthur bit dead skin off of his lip.

 

“He fancies you, Arthur. And you argue like an old married couple.” Sean smirked at his own joke.

 

“Fancies me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur could feel his cheeks get hot from an awkward urge. 

 

“I’m just tuggin’ at your leg. John just talks about you all the time. ‘Ya think Arthur is still mad at me?’ he goes. Arthur this, Arthur that. Won’t shut up about ya sometimes.” 

 

“Well, I  _ am  _ still mad at him.” Arthur gritted his teeth. “He left us all, without saying a word about it. It was only a year but it felt like a decade. I don’t get how someone can just throw away their family like that.”

 

“Whatever you say, Arthur.” Sean didn’t seem too convinced that his anger came directly from that.

 

“How much farther is this place, anyway?!” A mix of frustration and embarrassment was growing in Arthur’s throat in a ball as he tried to change the subject immediately. 

 

“Calm yourself, ya big goon. It’s coming up now. We should leave the horses here.” Sean halted his horse as Arthur followed his lead. They tied their animals to two trees nearby.

 

Arthur inspected the area, cooling down from the previous babble. 

The sun shined down on a clearing with a wooden cabin constructed in the middle. The windows were broken out, shards of glass poking from the sides. The structure was covered with tiny growths of mold and multi-colored beer bottles littered the front yard. 

He eyed the shed Sean boasted about. It had a single door and no windows. A man with a shotgun guarded it, walking back and forth taking sips from a whiskey bottle. He looked neurotic, his eyes darting back and forth and his movements jittered. 

 

“You think he is the only one here?” Sean whispered. They had started inching towards a rock sitting near the outside of the clearing to cover themselves.

 

“Maybe.” Arthur muttered, squinting his olive eyes to try and see if any living person was cornered inside the cabin itself.

 

One other man was polishing a rifle in an old wooden chair inside. They seemed calmer than the guard, but still off.

 

“I’ll take ‘em out. They don’t really seem like the type who can be persuaded. Sean, start movin’ towards the shed.”

 

Arthur propped his gun on top of the rock, fingering the trigger with one eye closed and the other focused on the guard’s balding head.

 

**BAM**

 

The shot echoed, startling birds that flew up from the bushes.

The guard’s brains splattered onto the shed wall, making a gruesome mosaic from his flesh.

 

“What in the goddamn?!” A twangy voice belted from inside. He cocked his gun and started for the door, but Arthur had already locked his sights onto his chest.

 

**BAM BAM BAM**

 

The bullets hit into his skin and flung the man backwards, nearly killing him instantly.

No other movement was seen, except Sean looking around nervously to see if any other outlaws would run out from the trees, weapons blaring.

 

“I think the coast is clear.” Sean said, creaking the shed door open.

 

Another outlaw jumped from behind the shed wall, putting a knife up to Sean’s neck.

 

“Bloody hell!” Sean cried, grabbing the man’s arm and struggling to break free without getting cut. Arthur hastily pulled a revolver from his holster and shot the groggy looking man in the temple, causing him to fall to the floor.

 

Sean collected himself and stared at the corpse.

 

“Nice shot!” Sean gave him a thumbs up, but Arthur didn’t seem as amused with almost losing a friend. 

 

“Thanks. Now let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up.” Arthur ran to the shed and trampled over the lifeless man, blood scuffing his boots.

 

A small lock box and a few piles of ammunition were sitting inside on the mud floor. Sean was already stuffing his pockets with gun cartridges.

 

Arthur approached the mystery box and held his knife out, stabbing into the side and cutting at the lock. He flung it open and inspected the contents.

 

“Anything good?” Sean said, jumping to his feet to look as well.

“Well, a few hundred outta do the trick.” Arthur was flipping bills in his hands.

 

“Sweet. I told ya, my good man.” Sean held out his hand with false triumph.

 

“You didn’t do shit except lead me here.” Arthur growled. “Nearly got yourself killed. Again,”

 

“You wouldn’t have found this place without me. I deserve my share.” Sean retorted back, visibly annoyed with the taunts.

 

“Fine, Fine.” Arthur gave him 30 dollars worth of cash from the clip. “But get outta here, now.”

 

“Gladly.” Sean replied, kicking the knife man’s corpse as he walked towards his steed outside.

 

As Arthur took a second look at the box, he noticed something shining from under useless documents. He grabbed them, crumpling each one to reveal a vintage diamond necklace laying on the bottom of the heap. It had golden trim and a single diamond that hung in the middle as Arthur held it for examination. 

A rogue idea threw itself onto Arthur’s train of thought, beating every logical idea up as it went through the carts.

It would look perfect around a woman’s neck.

Perfect around Abigail’s. 

 

He pushed the necklace deep inside his pant’s pocket and got up from ground level, debating with himself whether it would truly be a good plan to do what the intrusive thought was feeding him as he got on Helena once again. 

Sean was right. Any time he would see Dutch and Molly arguing over their usual flawed mishaps, he just shrugged it off and went on his way. None of how Arthur was feeling made sense to him. Abigail was a sweet, strong woman. He admired that in her, but there were a handful of equally interesting women around him that didn’t get him worked up like this.

Maybe it wasn’t Abigail. Maybe it wasn’t even Jack. Maybe…

 

Arthur took a detour while traveling back to camp to sketch in a field with a crumbled stone pile.

He squinted down at his paper as the sun’s rays made the light colored material hard to see.

The start of long, black hair and a scarred up face appeared in pencil. Two intense eyes with emotion accompanied the rest.

He couldn’t get him off his mind, and he wasn’t sure why.

  
  
  


                                                                    ***

 

Abigail shoved a dirty shirt, small enough to be a young boy’s, into a washing basin and attempted to scrub mud off of it. Jack had tripped near the chicken house and had got all kinds of grime onto himself. He had scraped his knees and cut up one of his hands, but Hosea was treating his wounds.

These were the moments when being a mother made her tired, and as she wiped a trickle of sweat off her face she re-evaluated her life once again.

 

“Heyyy Abigail!” Karen’s voice boomed from behind her, which almost made Abigail jump in surprise.

 

“Oh, yes. Karen. What is it?” Abigail caught her breath and put down the soapy shirt to look up at the big bosomed woman.

 

“So, what’s the news?” Karen huddled where Abigail was and pushed her shoulders onto hers with naive force, almost causing Abigail to fall over.

 

“What news, Karen? Does anything exciting ever happen ‘round here?”

 

“Oh, we girls can’t stop talking about it. You're a lucky woman, Abigail Marston. Lucky but burdened, havin’ two men fightin’ over you like that.”

 

Abigail narrowed her eyes and sucked her bottom lip in.

 

“I don’t know what in heaven’s name you are talkin’ about.”

 

“Arthur was totally tryin’ to get a piece of ya!” Karen imitated a man thrusting into a woman’s lady parts.

This made Abigail’s already exhausted mood turn into defensive rage.

“Karen, you're as mad as you are stupid.” She pointed a finger in her face, soap flinging off as she almost jabbed her nose. “Nobody was doing no such thing. Leave their names out of your mouth and stop gossipin’ if you don’t know it’s true!” 

 

Karen was a little shocked by her response, but then got a sly look on her face. She gently swatted away Abigail’s hand and turned to her side, giving her a little dip of the body in a taunt. 

 

“Listen, darlin’. Nobody wants to admit to adultery.” Karen shook her bottom in Abigail’s direction. “Just keep them quiet next time, ya hear?” Her expression looked like she was a wolf luring the sheep into her den. She then walked off in Tilly’s direction as she laughed, not pretending to even care if Abigail heard.

Abigail kept silent, unsure of what to reply. She wasn’t in any state to attempt a fight without someone getting their dress shoved down their throat.

 

She threw a sponge into the water irrationally. It hit with force and splashed all over the bottom of her outfit. She let out a loud groan and darted away from the basin.

 

John watched as Abigail folded her arms over her legs and plopped angrily away from the rest of the camp, past the horses and near the edge of the trees.

He didn’t know whether to blame Arthur or himself for Abigail’s distress today. He just straightened the newspaper he had in his hand and continued to read, pretending to be dull to the events that just transpired. 


End file.
